Avery White - Year Two
by Cupcake Crew
Summary: Avery White is back for her second year at Hogwarts! She hopes that this year will be just as fun as the last. However, when the Chamber of Secrets is reopened, she, along with Harry, Ron and Hermione, is pushed to her very limits to solve the mystery... ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**I am so late uploading this! Sorry! :/ Anyway, it's up now. How're you guys doing? Have any of you seen The Fault In Our Stars yet? I'm going to go see it tomorrow! I'm so excited! My friend went to a fan showing, and she said she cried so much! **

**On another note, I had a really weird dream a couple nights ago. It basically started off with me building a house in a snowy Minecraft world. After that, I went into a mine that I had obviously dug before, but it was filled with all my classmates, which was when it got weird. After that, I descended further into the mine, and it changed from Minecraft to Pokemon? I think I was either a Grass-Type who could swim, or a Water-Type who was afraid of the deep waters. Anyway, I had a Piplup as a friend. The mine was lit with a beautiful blue light, and it was very damp. We walked for a while, and came across my RE teacher, who told us that we had to do something. We went to do that thing, and as we were going, Piplup pulled me through a wall, telling me that I had to see something. We passed through the wall and ended up under the ocean. If you look up on Google 'Two oceans meet' and click in Images, we were practically right underneath that! It was both terrifying and amazing for me, but fear overpowered me, and I swam back through the wall, watching Piplup explore before plucking up the courage to swim back to him. We explored the ocean floor, playing with different shoals of fish, until I woke up.**

**Weird, huh? **

**Also, I've been watching all the Studio Ghibli films I can find, and LOVE My Neighbor Totoro and Spirited Away!**

**Anyway, thanks to any of you who reviewed my last story, and for picking up on my mistake on the first chapter! I'm going to correct that at some point!**

**On with the first chapter! Woo!**

* * *

I sit in my bed, leaning against the wall. The sounds of Laura's faint snores fill the air as I watch Sooty clean himself. I would be asleep. I'm supposed to be asleep. However, I stay up finishing History of Magic homework, and decide that seeing as it's nearly sunrise anyway, I might as well call it an all-nighter and stay up.

As I continue to watch Sooty, my eyes glaze over, and I almost drop off to sleep when a loud thud wakes me up again. I see an old looking grey owl balanced on my windowsill, completely unconscious.

I fling open the window and lift the poor thing inside. Carefully I lay him on my bed and untie the letter attached to his leg.

_Dear Avery,_

_I hope this reached you okay – Errol isn't the most reliable thing. I wanted to tell you that we rescued Harry from his aunt and uncle and he's at our house now. We're going to Diagon Alley next Wednesday, and wondered if you wanted to meet us there. Hermione's coming as well. If you are, send Errol back with a reply, and we'll meet you outside Gringotts. If you can't... send Errol back anyway, and we'll see you at the start of the term!_

_Ron_

I grin and look at the owl. "Hi Errol," I coo. The owl hoots tiredly. I laugh quietly and sneak to the bathroom, grabbing a plastic cup on the way. A minute later, the plastic cup is full of fresh cold water, and Errol is drinking thirstily. I hand feed him some of Sooty's dry owl food (he would hunt, but sometimes, he has to have some dry food in his diet); I think the poor owl's coordination isn't the best.

While Errol recovers, I scribble a note back to Ron.

_Dear Ron,_

_I can definitely come! I'll meet you outside Gringotts at around ten o clock? I hope you didn't do anything illegal or dangerous to rescue Harry – that would get you both into trouble!_

_See you soon!_

_Avery_

Deciding that I could send Errol later, I place him in the cage next to Sooty who hoots cheerfully. After this, I walk to the window and open it as wide as it can go, leaning out and enjoying the fresh, already warm morning breeze on my face. I see the sun's first rays, peeking over the horizon. IN another ten minutes, it will be fully up, and the day will start to get warmer.

I look down over the garden, eyes lingering on the pool. Mum and Dad cleaned it yesterday, with a bit of well hidden magic. I shrug and turn away from the window. However, my discarded swimming costume catches my attention. _It's only ten minutes away from sunrise. In summer, that means that it's around half past five in the morning. I can wait for around an hour before Mum usually lets me get up, _I think, grabbing my sketch pad and settling down to draw Sooty and Errol nestled together in a feathery heap.

By the time morning comes, I have just finished my drawing. "Errol, you wanna go home now?" I ask the bird softly. He hoots, so I assume that's a yes.

I take the letter and roll it up, using soft wool to attack it to Errol's leg. With a last, long sip of water, Errol takes off out the window. Sooty flies out soon after, off for a quick morning hunt. While most owls are nocturnal, he seems to enjoy daytime.

I watch them disappear before heading into Mum and Dad's room. "Hey Mum, can I have breakfast?" I ask.

"Hmm? Yeah, go ahead. Be quiet, whatever you decide to do outside," Mum says blearily, before rolling over and going back to sleep. I grin, knowing that she knows I'm going to go in the pool for an early morning swim.

I walk back to my bedroom and change into my swimming costume and a shirt, before sneaking downstairs and grabbing an apple from the fridge. I munch happily, sitting with my feet dangling in the water and cooling my feet.

After about a minute or so, I have finished, and I stand up. That is, until I hear footsteps behind me. Two hands push my back, and I fall face first into the pool.

_I forgot my goggles!_ I think as I splutter and cough, breaking the surface. Treading water, I rub the water out my eyes and see a very evil looking Laura standing behind where I was.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that!" she chortles. I scowl and climb out and slip into the kitchen, grabbing my goggles and slopping back out again.

Laura watches my every move, thinking that I'm going to plan an attack on her. "Go and change," I suggest. She nods and escapes into the house. I have a sudden genius-attack and hide behind the shed. As Laura walks out towards the pool, she looks around, confused.

I let her walk around the garden, having to clap a hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing. When she has her back to the shed, I sneak out until I have a clear run. Then, with a loud shout, I run straight towards her and tackle her, knocking both of us into the pool.

We tussle playfully underwater before surfacing. "You scared me, Avery," Laura grins, breathing heavily. I shrug and take a deep breath, diving under the water and swimming around. Everything is quiet under here, it's nice. The only things you can hear are the sounds of your splashing, and if you listen very carefully, you can hear your heartbeat.

Laura joins me underwater and we circle each other for a bit, seeing how long we can hold our breath for. Eventually we come up, gasping for air.

"Having fun, girls?" Mum's voice says from across the garden. I look over and see her and Dad, sitting in the patio chairs with some toast and watching us swim.

"Yeah, actually. Oh, Mum, can we go to Diagon Alley on Wednesday?" I ask.

"Yes. Your Hogwarts letters should come today."

"Awesome," I grin and dive under again.

I spend the entire day in the pool just swimming around with Laura. Sure enough, our Hogwarts letters arrive this evening. Mum walks out, carrying two parchment envelopes. I scramble out of the pool and dry my hands to open it.

AS usual, it tells me that I need to catch the train from King's Cross on September 1st, tells me that we have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and that the list of books is included.

_SECOND YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:_

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, by Miranda Goshawk  
Break with a Banshee, by Gilderoy Lockhart  
Gadding with Ghouls, by Gilderoy Lockhart  
Holidays with Hags, by Gilderoy Lockhart  
Travels with Trolls, by Gilderoy Lockhart  
Wanderings with Werewolves, by Gilderoy Lockhart  
Year with a Yeti, by Gilderoy Lockhart._

"Gilderoy Lockhart seems to be popular with the new teacher," I say, slightly confused at all of them.

"Maybe they're a huge fan?" Laura suggests. I frown and slide my list back into the envelope for safe keeping, before jumping back into the pool and swimming around.

_-_-_-_-_-WEDNESDAY-_-_-_-_-_

On Wednesday, we all gather round the fireplace. "We're going by Floo Powder this time," Dad says. I grin. Floo Powder is much nicer than Apparition, I can tell you.

"I'll go first," Laura offers. Mum nods, and Laura steps into the fireplace. Dad holds out a bag full of Floo Powder, and Laura takes a handful. She says "Diagon Alley!" and throws the powder down. Immediately, green flames envelope her, and she disappears. "I'll go next," I grin.

I stand in the fireplace. Dad offers me the bag, and I take a handful of the powder. "Diagon Alley!" I shout, chucking the powder on the floor. The green flames surround me, and I begin to spin around, very fast. I see grates of other homes fly by me as I spin, occasionally smacking my elbow on the wall. Finally I begin to slow down, and I stick out my hands to catch my fall. Laura helps me up, and I brush my clothes down. I look around, we're in the Leaky Cauldron.

Laura tugs me out of the way. I turn around and see Mum stepping out of the fireplace neatly. Soon after her, Dad also steps out. We nod to Tom and step out through to the back. Dad taps the wall with his wand, and the amazing Diagon Alley is revealed to us. I step through and take my strangely full money bag from Mum. "We went to Gringotts a while ago and filled them then to avoid the summer rush," Dad explains.

"Can I go find Harry, Ron and Hermione then?" I ask. They nod, and I sprint off to Gringotts, where, sure enough, my three friends stand waiting. Next to them is the Weasley family. "Harry, Ron, Hermione!" I shout, running up to them. They grin and wave.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your school books," Mrs Weasley says to us. Then, she turns to the twins "And not one step down Knocturn Alley!"

"Why would they go down Knocturn Alley?" I ask. Between them, the trio explain Harry's little adventure down there after the Floo Powder disaster.

"Oh," is all I say at this. Everyone's had a Floo Powder accident before. Usually on your first go. I remember my first accident where I was supposed to go to my Nan's house and ended up in a stranger's house. Luckily the stranger wasn't in at the time, and even more luckily, they live only a few streets away from me, so I was able to run back and try again.

We head to the ice cream parlour and buy four large strawberry and peanut butter ice creams. Licking them happily, we wander through the alley, buying anything necessary. Ron gets distracted at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. We have to drag him away to go and buy ink and parchment.

An hour later, we head to Flourish and Blotts to get our books. We aren't alone; there's a massive crowd of people swarming to the entrance. The reason for this soon becomes obvious: Gilderoy Lockhart will be signing copies of his autobiography Magical Me today 12:20 pm to 4:30 pm.

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squeals, "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

We push inside and sneak along the queue to the Weasleys, who are standing with Hermione's parents (it's the recognizable hair) and to my family. The crowd seems to be made up of mostly witches, who seem to be mostly Mrs Weasley's and my Mum's age.

As we pass the stand, we all grab a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 to buy when we get there.

"Oh, there you are, good," Mrs Weasley says, sounding breathless, "We'll be able to see him in a minute..."

Gilderoy Lockhart comes into view. He sits at a table, surrounded by multiple pictures of himself, all of them winking at us. I frown at the sight. The actual Lockhart is wearing baby blue robes that seem to match his eyes exactly. His wizard's hat is at a jaunty angle.

A short, angry looking man leaps around taking photos. Each flash blinds me. "Out of the way, there," the man snarls at Ron, "This is for the Daily Prophet."

"Big deal," Ron mutters. Lockhart seems to hear him. He looks up and surveys us. First he looks at Ron, who spoke first. Then he looks at Hermione, who is gazing dreamily at him. Thirdly he looks at me, stifling giggles at Ron's comment. Finally, his eyes rest on Harry. He leaps to his feet and shouts "It can't be Harry Potter?"

The crowd parts, whispering. Lockhart leaps forwards, shoving Ron and Hermione out the way and grabbing Harry's arm, dragging him back. The crowd bursts into applause. I see Harry turn steadily redder as the man takes more and more photos. "Nice big smile, Harry," Lockhart mutters loud enough for us all to hear him, "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

Eventually, he lets go of Harry's arm. Harry flexes his hand, attempting to rejoin us, but Lockhart throws an arm around his shoulders and practically clamps him to his side. "Ladies and gentlemen," Lockhart begins, "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect time for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!  
"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography – which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge –" the crowd applauds again "-he had no idea that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd claps and cheers. I scowl at the pompous bigheaded man, who is now handing Harry a full set of his published works. Staggering, Harry brings them back and tips them into Ginny Weasley's cauldron. "You have these," Harry mumbles, "I'll buy my own- "

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" a sneer that we all recognise says.

"Famous Harry Potter," Draco Malfoy says, "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone. He didn't want all that!" Ginny glares.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" Malfoy sniggers. Ginny goes scarlet. I step forwards, the pile of Lockhart books I have just bought completely forgotten. Ron and Hermione fight over, both clutching a stack of books as well.

"Oh, it's you," Ron says as though Malfoy was an ordinary person, "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," Malfoy retorts, "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those." Ron goes as red as Ginny. He chucks his books into the cauldron as well and starts towards Malfoy, but Harry and Hermione grab his jacket.

"Ron!" Mr Weasley says, smiling, "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside." He fights his way over with the twins.

"Well, well, well, Arthur Weasley," a cold voice says. I shiver and look up to see who must be Malfoy's father.

He stands with a sneer on his face that matches Malfoy exactly. "Lucius," Mr Weasley acknowledges just as coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Mr Malfoy says, "All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reaches into Ginny's cauldron and pulls out a battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. "Obviously not," Mr Malfoy continues, eyes glinting, "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr Weasley goes crimson "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."

"Clearly," Mr Malfoy says coolly, "The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower-"

A thud of metal tells us that Ginny's cauldron has gone flying. Mr Weasley leaps onto Mr Malfoy and starts a full on brawl. Bookshelves fall over, the contents tipping onto the pair's heads. There is a yell of "Get him, Dad!" from the twins. Meanwhile, a completely horrified shout comes from Mrs Weasley "No, Arthur, no!"

"Gentlemen, please – please!" the assistant shouts, but to no avail. The pair fight until Hagrid's booming voice stops them. "Break it up, there, break it up."

In an instant, Hagrid pulls the two apart. Mr Weasley has a cut lip and Mr Malfoy has a black eye from being hit by a heavy spellbook. He is still holding Ginny's book. "Here, girl – take your book – it's the best your father can give you." He pulls himself out of Hagrid's grip and sweeps out the shop with Malfoy following behind.

"Yeh should have ignored him, Arthur," Hagrid says, lifting Mr Weasley up and brushing him off. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that – no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter – bad blood, that's what it is – come on now – let's get outta here." As we stride out of the shop, the assistant looks as though he wants to stop us, but only reaches Hagrid's waist in height and thinks twice.

We hurry into the street. Hermione's parents are shaking in fright, my parents are stuck between shock and trying not to laugh. Mrs Weasley starts ranting "A fine example to set for your children... brawling in public... what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought..."

"He was pleased," Fred says, "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report – said it was all publicity..."

WE all finish buying our supplies and head back to the Leaky Cauldron. Saying goodbye to Hermione and her parents, who are heading for the Muggle world outside, we all line up by the fire. "I'll see you at school, guys," I say, stepping into the fire and heading for home with all my new things.

As I stumble out the fireplace, I think that Floo Powder is a much better way to travel than Side Along Apparition, and if I learnt anything today, it's that if you only come up to someone's waist in height, you don't try to stop them doing what they want.

**Let me know what you think of this as a first chapter! If there are any stupid mistakes, tell me!**

**Next one will be out in a week or so!**


	2. Chapter 2

***Walks into the room guiltily and stares at laptop* I'm sorry, guys. This was so late, and it was meant to be uploaded weeks ago... I got so distracted. Every single one of my school subjects seems to want to do an assessment every week, and I've been attempting to keep up with that and homework... It's been chaotic. I'm sorry.**

**Either way, here is chapter two!**

* * *

This summer seems to go a lot quicker than the last one. Very soon, my trunk is packed, Sooty is in his cage, which is nice and clean (thanks, Mum!), my Nimbus Two Thousand is carefully tucked away, my robes are neatly folded, and we're in the car to go to King's Cross.

The journey to the station is hectic. The traffic is dreadful, and by the time we actually run into the station both Mum and Dad are stressed and grumpy. They grab two trolleys for our trunks and send us through the barrier, running after us. There in front of us is the Hogwarts Express. "Avery!" I hear Hermione's voice shout.

Glancing around, I spot her, waving madly. "Bye Mum, bye Dad!" I hug my parents. "See you in the summer! Love you!"

They laugh at my eagerness and wave as I push the trolley over to Hermione. "Have you seen Harry and Ron?" I ask her. She shakes her head, frowning. "Oh well. They must either be late or already on the train," I say, shrugging.

"Should we get on and find a compartment then?" Hermione asks.

"Yeah, or we won't get an empty one," I say, and we heave our trolleys to the train doors. I jump on and tug my trunk up into the corridor. Hermione follows and pulls her trunk up as well, and we wheel them down to the first empty compartment we find.

"It's eleven o clock. Let's go to the window," I grin. We open the window and wave to our parents wildly. I look left and see Laura and her friends by a window, saying goodbye.

And with that, the train leaves the station. We are enveloped in a misty cloud of steam, and retreat back to the compartment. Throughout the morning, we practice some of the spells from the new books, and revise a few old ones. When the lunch trolley comes, I buy some Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, a sugar quill, a couple of Chocolate Frogs, and a Pumpkin Pasty. Hermione gets some sweet stuff as well, and we sit and munch.

AS the scenery becomes darker and wilder, we change into our robes and smarten ourselves up. I feed Sooty one last treat as the train comes to a stop at the station. We join the surge of students heading towards the door and leap onto the platform in the cool air. Hagrid is there, ushering the first years along the platform as he did with us last year. "Hi Hagrid!" I yell. He waves to us and continues walking along.

"Right, I think we join the people going this way..." Hermione mutters, and we decide to follow a few Hufflepuff fifth years who walk to odd carriages that appear to pull themselves, and climb in. We are joined by Neville and Ron's sister Ginny who looks both terrified and overjoyed at the same time.

As the carriage trundles up to the school, I see a small moving ball of light way up in the sky. "Look at that!" I whisper to Hermione, pointing at it. She sticks her head out the window to get a closer look.

"I wonder what it is..." she says. We watch it all the way until it starts to descend, and then we lose sight of it. However, we gain sight of the castle. "I can't wait for this year!" I grin. My heart beats faster with excitement as we head up the long pathway up to the castle entrance. And then, the carriage stops and we jump out.

We walk up through the large wooden doors and into the Entrance Hall, following the throng of people entering the Great Hall and heading to the house tables. Hermione and I sit down right by the end to watch the Sorting Ceremony, saving room for Harry and Ron, but they don't turn up.

WE chat about why they couldn't have gotten here, or the possibilities of us missing them, but stop talking due to the Sorting Hat's song.

_You may think I'm just a hat  
But how can you be sure  
Just sit down on this stool with me  
Are you brave or loyal or pure?_

_I can Sort you into a house  
Where you most belong  
Get your head up, open your ears  
And listen to my song._

_The first house is Gryffindor  
Which is the house of brave  
Their daring reaches to their roots  
And thrills are what they crave!_

_The next house is Hufflepuff  
They are hardworking and true  
This kind-hearted clan are loyal  
And treachery, they'll never do!_

_The third house is Ravenclaw  
These folks always seek more learning  
They study hard and most are smart  
But they're always yearning!_

_The last house is Slytherin  
This is the place of craft  
These cunning people always achieve  
And never show they're daft._

_So put me on and don't be scared  
AS I know where you belong  
There is only one thing left to do  
Because I have finished my song!_

**(AN: Shout-out to **September And Summer** for letting me use her made up Sorting Hat song. Thanks! Check out her profile and stories, guys!)**

All the way throughout the Sorting, Dumbledore's and Lockhart's speeches, and through the feast, they remain out of sight. However, I do notice Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Filch disappear half way through the feast and Hermione and I assume that it's something to do with Harry and Ron.

In addition to this, we hear a few sixth years talking about Harry and Ron flying a car into a tree in the grounds. "You don't think it's true, do you?" I ask.

Hermione frowns. "No, I don't. Even they aren't that insane." I bite my lip at this, knowing that it isn't out of their reach.

When the end of the Start-Of-Term feast comes, Hermione and I make sure we stay at the end. In fact, we make up the excuse of going to the bathroom to hang around a little later to find our missing friends.

When we can't hold off any longer, we enter the crowd again. Overhearing the password, we run around the long way to Gryffindor Tower. When we actually reach the portrait hole, Harry and Ron are there.

"There you are! Where have you been?" Hermione shouts at them, we break into a run and nearly barge into them. "The most ridiculous rumours – someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying car."

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assures us.

"You're not telling us you did fly here?" I ask incredulously.

"Skip the lectures and tell us the new password," Ron grouches.

"It's 'wattlebird' but that's not the point –'' Hermione is cut off by the portrait hole swinging open. A storm of clapping bursts through, the entire house is crowded in there waiting for Harry and Ron to arrive.

People reach through and pull Harry and Ron through the hole, but Hermione and I have to climb through by ourselves. "Brilliant!" Lee Jordan shouts, "Inspired! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years-"

"Good for you!" A fifth year grins. People pat them on the back. Hermione and I choose a seat right at the back of the crowd and watch as Fred and George walk up the pair and say "Why couldn't we have come in the car, eh?"

Ron goes bright red, and Harry grins sheepishly. Suddenly, he frowns and motions to Ron, who drops his smile. They charge to the stairs, shouting "Night!" to us. I turn and see Percy Weasley approaching sternly.

We scowl and decide to go to bed before being cornered by anyone, and head up to our old dormitory which now says "Second Years".

I change into pyjamas and bid Hermione goodnight. Pulling the hangings, I am surprised by Sooty hooting. He perches on my headboard like he did pretty much all last year. I hand him an owl treat and stroke his feathers before lying down and falling into a dream filled with Quidditch on owls, using treacle tart as a Golden Snitch. I think I ate too much.

The next morning brings several shocks. We sit down at the Gryffindor table quite early. Hermione props open her copy of Voyages with Vampires against a milk jug, and we wait for Harry and Ron to get down. They take quite a while, so I sit and munch on an apple.

Eventually the pair join us. "Morning," Hermione says stiffly. She appears to still disapprove of their entrance last night.

Neville, however, greets them cheerfully. "Mail's due any minute – I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot," he grins.

Sure enough, a whooshing sound tells us it's here. The post owls circle us overhead, dropping the parcels and letters on the appropriate person's lap or in front of them. A large package bounces off Neville's head, and a huge fluffy thing lands on Hermione's milk jug. I end up with a face of milk and feathers. "Errol!" Ron gasps, fishing the owl out. "Oh no!" Errol slumps, feet in the air and a red letter in his beak.

"It's alright, he's still alive," Hermione says, prodding Errol gently.

"It's not that – it's that!" Ron grimaces, pointing to the red letter. I take a closer look, and take it out of Errol's beak. "Have fun Ron," I say, holding it out to him.

"What's the matter?" Harry asks innocently. He really has no idea.

"She's – she's sent me a Howler," Ron says faintly.

"You'd better open it, Ron," Neville whispers timidly, "It'll be worse if you don't. My Gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and-" he gulps "It was horrible."

Harry looks at us. "What's a Howler?"

However, our attention is drawn to the now smoking letter. "Open it," I urge.

"It'll all be over in a few minutes-" Neville says.

Ron stretches out a very shaky hand and takes the envelope from me. He slides his fingers under the flap. Neville covers his ears, and Harry looks strangely confused. And then, it explodes. Dust falls from the ceiling and everyone falls silent.

I cringe as the letter shouts at Ron. "STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WEN THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE-" Mrs Weasley yells. Her voice is thousands of times louder than it was when we saw her. It makes the cutlery rattle, and echoes horribly off the walls.

"-LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED-"

Harry turns bright red. I wince as the shouting continues, knowing that it can't be a good day if we all have headaches. "-ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED – YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN ENQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU **STRAIGHT HOME!**"

The red letter, having dropped from Ron's hand, bursts into flame. A strange silence fills the hall. I watch Harry and Ron sit there, completely stunned. A few people laugh, and eventually, chatter fills the hall again.

Hermione closes her book and looks at the pair. "Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you-"

"Don't tell me I deserved it," Ron snaps. I sit and look at my apple, torn between laughing at it or being shocked that Mrs Weasley would send a Howler. Before long, Professor McGonagall hands me my timetable. I see that we have Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first, so we four stand up and make our way down to the greenhouses.

Hermione seems to think that the Howler is enough punishment and is friendly towards the boys. I just keep sniggering at their faces when it finished. Because of this Ron keeps scowling at me.

As we near the greenhouses, we see the rest of the class standing and waiting for Professor Sprout. We only just join them when she comes striding into view with Gilderoy Lockhart behind her.

Professor Sprout's arms are full of bandages. I glance up and see the Whomping Willow, which has a load of branches in slings and wrappings.

Professor Sprout has flyaway hair, all of which is crammed under a grubby patched hat. She's quite short, with muddy robes and fingernails. Next to her, Lockhart is in immaculate robes of turquoise, with his gold hair under a turquoise and gold hat.

"Oh, hello there!" he beams at us. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't what you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels-"

"How about we show you the right way to the door? We've all met a lot of those, and we don't travel," I mumble under my breath. Hermione scowls at me.

"Greenhouse Three today, chaps!" Professor Sprout says, sounding disgruntled. We all murmur in interest – Greenhouse Three is where all the dangerous plants are kept. We only ever work in Greenhouse One, so this is an interesting change. The door is unlocked, and we all traipse in. It smells very earthy, with a strong smell of pollen from giant umbrella like flowers hanging overhead. It makes my eyes water a little, but I manage to get used to it.

"Harry! I've been wanting a word – you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes later, do you, Professor Sprout?" Lockhart flashes a cheesy grin.

I want to hit him.

Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she does mind, but Lockhart ignores her and pulls Harry backwards out of the room. I grin at his pleading face and turn to the table in front of us. It is covered in odd leafy plants, about twenty pairs of earmuffs, and some aprons. We all pull the aprons on and slide our dragon hide gloves on as well.

Professor Sprout waits until Harry is back in the room before beginning the lesson. "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

Surprise surprise, Hermione's hand shoots up first. "Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," says our walking encyclopaedia, "It is used to return those who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor," Professor Sprout says, "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione's hand shoots into the air. I see that she nearly knocks Harry's glasses off. "The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it."

"Precisely. Take another ten points," says Professor Sprout, "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young." She gestures to the rows of deep trays. We all shuffle closer to get a better look. About a hundred tufty purple plants sit growing in rows. "Everyone take a pair of earmuffs."

I grab a pair of dark blue earmuffs. "When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," Professor Sprout instructs, "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs up. Right – earmuffs on."

I tug the earmuffs open and slide them over my head, making sure they cover my ears fully. I can't hear anything, it's like I'm completely deaf.

Professor Sprout pulls on a pair of pink fluffy earmuffs and rolls up her sleeves. IN one swift motion, she grasps the leaves of the plant firmly and pulls. I recoil at the sight.

The Mandrakes don't have roots. Instead, they have a small muddy and horribly ugly baby. The leaves are like its hair, and it has green mottled skin. It's also clearly screaming as loud as it can even though none of us can hear it.

Professor Sprout takes a large pot and dumps the Mandrake into it, covering it in damp earth. Then, she brushes her hands off and gives a thumbs up. I tug my earmuffs off. "As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill you yet," she says calmly, "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up."

We murmur in assent, so she continues "Five to a tray – there is a large supply of pots here – compost in the sacks over there – and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething." She slaps a crimson spiky plant as she speaks, and it withdraws the long tentacles that were inching over her shoulder.

We four are joined at our pot by a curly haired Hufflepuff that I recognise as "Justin Finch-Fletchley," he says brightly. Justin shakes Harry's hand enthusiastically. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter... And you two are Hermione Granger and Avery White – always top in everything," Justin grins, shaking our hands as well, "And Ron Weasley. Wasn't that your flying car?"

Ron doesn't smile. If looks could kill, Justin would be severely dead. "That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" Justin says cheerfully as we fill our plant pots with dragon dung compost, "Awfully brave old chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if I was cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and –zap – just fantastic.  
"My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family..."

He just keeps talking on and on, and we don't have much of a chance to talk. Thankfully, we have to put our earmuffs on, and that blocks out his constant rambling.

Professor Sprout makes repotting mandrakes look easy. It's not. They don't like coming out of the earth, but they also don't like going back into it. It's as though they can't make up their minds.

The gits squirm and flail, kicking us if they can reach us. I sustain a bite from one who managed to catch hold of my finger.

By the time the lesson is over, we're all hot, sweaty and covered in dirt. As a result, we have to run back to the castle to wash and change before heading to Transfiguration.

Now, Professor McGonagall's lessons are usually difficult, and I like that, but today's lesson is a particular challenge. We have to turn beetles into buttons. I guess that doesn't seem hard, but when the beetle keeps scuttling across the desk, it's hard to aim at it. And if you're next to Ron, like I am, you keep getting surrounded by thick, rotten smelling grey fog.

All of us are relieved by the time the bell goes. I think only Hermione managed to make her beetles into buttons. All I managed to do was put a series of button hole patterns on its outer shell.

We all head down to lunch. Ron looks exceedingly grumpy. "Look at these!" Hermione beams, pulling a handful of shiny buttons out of her pocket. I can hear Ron start to growl, and Harry hastily changes the subject. "What've we got this afternoon?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," Hermione replies at once, reading her timetable.

"Why have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?" Ron demands, seizing it. Hermione blushes furiously and snatches it back. I just laugh at the pair of them, finishing my lunch.

When we're all finished, we head into the courtyard. Hermione sits down and buries her nose in Voyages with Vampires, I lean against the wall and watch the owls fly overhead. Harry and Ron stand and talk about Quidditch.

"All right, Harry? I'm – I'm Colin Creevey," a small voice says breathlessly. I look around and spot a small mousey haired boy standing near Harry. "I'm in Gryffindor too." Colin takes a small step forwards. "D'you think – would it be all right if – can I have a picture?" Colin asks, raising a camera.

"A picture?" Harry repeats blankly.

"Yes, Harry, a picture," I say dryly.

"So I can prove I've met you," says Colin eagerly, "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and how you've still got the lightning scar on your forehead, and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move!" Colin says all in one breath. He draws in a huge breath and continues "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic until I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you," he takes another huge breath, looking imploringly at Harry, "Maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?" I hear Malfoy's loud voice echo around the courtyard. He, Crabbe and Goyle stop right behind Colin "EVERYBODY LINE UP!" he roars, "HARRY POTTER'S GIVING OUT SIGNED PHOTOS!"

"No I'm not," Harry says angrily, "Shut up, Malfoy!"

"You're just jealous!" Colin squeaks. I have to stifle a snort – Colin's entire body is thinner than Crabbe's neck.

"Jealous? Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself," Malfoy says scornfully.

Crabbe and Goyle snigger. "Eat slugs, Malfoy," Ron growls. Crabbe stops laughing and cracks his knuckles menacingly.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneers Malfoy, "You don't want to start any trouble or your Mummy'll have to come and take you away from school." He puts on a horrible shrill voice "If you put another toe out of line-" A few Slytherin fifth years laugh at this. I scowl at them, already annoyed by Malfoy. "Weasley would like a signed Photo, Potter. It'd be worth more than his family's whole house-"

Ron and I whip out our wands, but Hermione snaps her book shut and whispers "Look out!"

I slide my wand hastily back into my robes as Gilderoy Lockhart swishes into view. "What's all this, what's all this? Who's giving out signed photos?"

Harry starts to speak but he is cut off by Lockhart, who throws an arm around his shoulders and almost shouts "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"

I restrain laughter as Harry attempts to get away from Lockhart, but is rapidly pinned to his side again. His face is bright red. "Come on, then, Mr Creevey. A double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it for you."

Colin fumbles for his camera and snaps a picture right as the bell goes. "Off you go, move along there," Lockhart calls to the crowd, and we all walk towards Lockhart's classroom. Lockhart steers Harry a different way.

AS soon as they reach the classroom, Harry breaks away from Lockhart's iron grip and straightens his robes.

We file into the classroom. Harry sits at the back and builds a wall around himself with Lockhart's books. We sit down on either side of him "You could've fried an egg on your face," I snigger.

"You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club," Ron grins. I have to think for a moment, but then I remember that Ginny is Ron's Harry Potter obsessed sister.

"Shut up," Harry snaps.

When the entire class is seated, Lockhart clears his throat. Everyone falls silent. Lockhart beams and picks up Neville's copy of Travels with Trolls to show his own portrait on the front. "Self obsessed idiot," I mutter under my breath. Hermione looks at me in a scandalised way.

"Me," he says, pointing at it, and winking, "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming Smile Award – but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

There is an awkward pause as Lockhart waits for us to laugh at his 'hilarious' joke. A few people put on a strained smile. "I see you've all bought a complete set of my books – well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about – just to see how well you've read them, how much you've taken in-"

He hands out a test paper to each of us and returns to the front of the class. "You have thirty minutes – start – now!"

I look down at my test paper and read the first question. 1) What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?"

_I can answer that one – Lilac!_ I think, writing the answer down. I'm not sure if I should be proud that I got the first answer, or disappointed that I paid attention when reading the books.

2) What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

Err... I don't know that one.

One and on the test goes, right up to 54) When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?

After half an hour, Lockhart collects all the tests in. "Tut tut – hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is lilac. I say so in Year with a Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wandering with Werewolves more carefully – I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non magic peoples – though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"

He winks at us again. I silently fake vomit. Ron is staring at Lockhart with an disbelieving expression on his face, Dean and Seamus in the row in front of us are shaking with silent laughter. Hermione is paying attention with a rapt look on her face. She starts when Lockhart mentions her name.

"... But Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own brand of hair care potions – good girl! In fact –" he flips the paper over "-full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione raises a hand slowly. "Excellent!" Lockhart beams, "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so- to business."

He bends down behind his desk and lifts up a large covered cage. "Now – be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fear in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

I see Harry lean around the side of his book wall to watch. Lockhart places a hand on the cover, and Dean and Seamus stop laughing. Neville starts to cover in his seat. "I must ask you not to scream..." Lockhart says in a low voice, "It might provoke them."

We all hold our breath as Lockhart whips the cover off.

"Yes! Freshly caught Cornish Pixies!" says Lockhart dramatically. Seamus lets out a loud snort of amusement. Not even Lockhart would be able to mistake it for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" he smiles.

"Well, they're not – they're not very – dangerous, are they?" Seamus laughs.

"Don't be so sure!" Lockhart waggles a finger at Seamus, "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

I lean forwards and take a closer look at the pixies. They're bright blue and about ten inches high. Their shrill voices sound like birds, and they're rattling the bars of the cage. "Right then," Lockhart says loudly to gain our attention. "Let's see what you make of them!"

He opens the cage.

Pandemonium ensues. The pixies rocket in all directions. I duck below my desk and crawl out the other side to avoid three. Two pixies seize Neville's ears and pull him into the air. A couple shoot through the windows in the back, showering the entire back row with shattered glass.

The rest continue to wreck the classroom, emptying ink, ripping books, everything. Within two minutes, everything is ruined, most of the class are sheltering under desks, and Neville is swinging from the iron chandelier. "Come on now – round them up, round them up, they're only pixies!" Lockhart shouts.

"Why don't you do it then?!" I shout back, stopping a pixie from strangling Ron. Lockhart doesn't seem to hear me, he rolls up his sleeves and brandishes his wand, bellowing "PESKIPIKSI PESTERNOMI!"

The spell has no effect. One of the pixies grabs his wand, laughing gleefully, and throws it out the window. Lockhart gulps visibly and dives under the desk, narrowly avoiding Neville, who is falling as the chandelier gives way.

Just then, the bell rings. Everyone leaps for the door. We're just about to leave the chaos when Lockhart knocks us out the way and runs out, shouting "Well, I'll ask you four to just nip the rest back into their cage!" before shutting the door.

"CAN YOU BELIEVE HIM?" Ron roars, grabbing a pixie that has its teeth clamped around his ear.

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," Hermione says, immobilising two with a Freezing Charm.

"Hands-on experience? HANDS-ON EXPERIENCE? HE'S TRYING TO KILL US!" I shout.

"Hands-on? Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing!"

"Rubbish," Hermione frowns, freezing more and more, "You've read his books – look at all those amazing things he's done."

"He says he's done..." Ron mutters.

* * *

**As I say, I'm so sorry for being so late in uploading this, and I genuinely feel really guilty about it... **

**Leave a review (berating me on my lateness if you want), favourite if you want, follow if you want, and I PROMISE the next chapter will either be up tonight or tomorrow... Bye guys! And thank you again to **September And Summer**!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I didn't break my promise! Here is chapter three! I didn't get any reviews for the last one, but there's always this chapter! :3**

**So here it is!**

* * *

I am woken early on Saturday by an owl pecking my ear. "Gerroffmeee..." I whinge. The owl hoots impatiently, and I sigh and sit up. It holds its leg out, and I can just make out a letter.

"Ugh... it must be five in the morning... FINE!" I sigh and untie it, scrabbling around in the darkness. The owl flies out the open window, and I open the letter.

_Avery,_

_Early Quidditch practice. Meet us on the field pronto._

_Oliver_

I groan quietly and slide out of bed, shivering thanks to the open window. It takes me a good few minutes to find my Quidditch Robes, and another minute or so to pull them on. My Nimbus is in my trunk, so that's easy enough to find. Within five minutes, I am running down the main staircase and into the Entrance Hall, out onto the grounds, where I can leap on my Nimbus and fly down to the field, where I dismount outside the changing rooms and head inside.

Harry and the team are already there. Wood is the only one who looks awake. I sit down next to Fred and watch Wood tap a huge diagram of a Quidditch Pitch. A load of differently coloured arrows start to wriggle all over the diagram.

Wood starts to talk about his plans for this year. As he drones on, Fred's head droops onto my shoulder and he starts to snore. I feel my eyes begin to grow heavy.

"So!" Wood finishes, jolting me from my stupor. Fred wakes up suddenly. "Is that clear? Any questions?"

"I've got a question, Oliver," George says, "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"

"He's got a point," I mumble, rubbing my eye. Wood isn't pleased.

"Now listen here, you lot," he glowers at us, "We should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately – owing to circumstances beyond our control-" Wood cuts off, looking depressed.

I see Harry shift in his seat, looking guilty. He was in the Hospital Wing last year, completely unconscious. I pretended I was ill, so that me, Hermione and Ron could stay with him. As a result, they were two players short and kinda suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.

Wood takes a minute to bring himself together, before saying "So this year, we train harder than ever before... Okay, lets go and put our new theories into practice!" Wood shouts.

"What theories?" I ask George as we walk out. He shrugs.

WE walk out onto the field, where we see Ron and Hermione sitting in the stands. "Aren't you finished yet?" Ron calls to us incredulously.

"Haven't even started," Harry says, "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

We mount up and kick off. I feel the familiar thrill of the smooth rise, before taking off once around the stadium for a warmup.

"What's that funny clicking noise?" Fred asks as I pass him.

I look around and see Colin sitting in the stands, camera raised. "Look this way, Harry! This way!" he cries excitedly.

"Who's that?" Fred raises an eyebrow.

"No idea," Harry lies. I grin and dive a little lower towards the rest of the team.

"What's going on?" Wood asks as we come nearer," Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor," Harry says quickly.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," sighs George.

"What makes you say that?" snaps Wood.

"Because they're here in person," the twin points. I look down and see several people dressed in green walking onto the pitch.

"I don't believe it!" Wood hisses, "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!" Wood shoots off down to the ground and staggers slightly in landing, due to the fact that he landed a little harder in anger.

"FLINT!" Wood bellows at the Slytherin captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

I land behind him with Fred and George, and we walk up to Wood and Marcus Flint. Flint is even bigger than Wood, and looks a little like a troll. "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood," he sneers.

Angelina, Harry and Katie join us. "But I booked the field!" Wood seethes, "I booked it!"

"Ah, but I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape," Flint smirks. He unfolds a slip of paper and reads aloud "I, Professor S Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker."

"You've got a new Seeker?" Wood asks, confused, "Where?"

From behind the bulky members of the team comes a smaller, green clad boy. Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" Fred asks with intense dislike.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," Flint smiles, "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

The entire team holds out their broomsticks. The sleek black broomsticks shine in the early morning sun. I look at the handle and read the words 'Nimbus Two Thousand and One'.

"Very latest model – only came out last month," says Flint nonchalantly. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. AS for the old Cleansweeps-" he smiles nastily at the Weasley twins, "-sweeps the board with them."

None of us can think of what to say. Malfoy sits among the team smugly. "Oh, look. A field invasion," Flint says suddenly. We look over and see Ron and Hermione running over to see what's wrong.

"What's happening?" Ron asks us. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?" He looks at Malfoy.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," Malfoy says proudly, "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gapes at the brooms. "Good, aren't they?" Malfoy brags, "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives – I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howls with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent," Hermione says sharply.

Malfoy scowls, "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."

"Oh, you little -!" I roar, whipping out my wand. Harry claps a hand over my mouth to stop me shouting what I want to say at Malfoy. At the exact same moment, Flint dives in front of Malfoy to shield him from Fred and George, Angelina shrieks "How DARE you!" and Ron plunges his hand into his robes and pulls out his wand. "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!"

In an instant, Ron shoots a jet of green light out of his wand. His curse shoots out the wrong end and hits him in the stomach, sending him flying backwards.

"Ron, Ron! Are you all right?" Hermione squeals, running over. I follow. Ron opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. That is, until he lets out a huge belch, and several slugs fly out of his mouth. The Slytherin team double up in laughter.

"Oh, god, that looks disgusting!" I recoil slightly. The rest of the team gather around Ron, who is continuously throwing up slugs. "We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," Harry says, pointing in the general direction of Hagrid's hut.

Hermione and I nod, and we help Ron up. "What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you"? the high pitched voice of Colin comes from the side of me as we walk through the pitch. Ron heaves and out come a few more slugs.

"Ohh!" Colin gasps in fascination, raising his camera, "Can you hold him still, Harry?"

"Get out of the way, Colin," Harry snaps. We support Ron out of the stadium and through the grounds. "Nearly there, Ron," Hermione pants as we near the cabin. "You'll be all right in a minute – almost there-"

We're so close to the cabin when Harry points. From out of Hagrid's cabin comes Gilderoy Lockhart. "Oh, no... not him, of all people," I groan.

"Quick, behind here!" Harry pulls us behind a bush, Hermione follows somewhat reluctantly.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart says loudly, "If you need help you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book. I'm surprised you haven't already got one – I'll sign one and send it over tonight. Well, goodbye!" he strides away to the castle, and we dive out from behind the bush.

We knock urgently on Hagrid's door. The man appears instantly, looking grumpy, although his expression brightens when he sees us. "Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me – come in, come in – thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again-"

We help Ron into the cabin and lower him into a chair. Harry explains what happened, and Hagrid calmly fetches a bucket. "Better out than in," he says cheerfully, "Get 'em all up, Ron."

"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop," Hermione says anxiously, watching Ron. "That's a difficult curse to work at the best of times, but with a broken wand..."

Hagrid bustles around us, making tea. His boarhound settles on Harry's knee. "What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asks, scratching Fang's ears.

"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," he growls. "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

This doesn't seem like Hagrid – he never normally criticises a Hogwarts teacher. Hermione says in a very high pitched voice "I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job-"

"He was the only man for the job," Hagrid says, offering us some treacle fudge. "An' I mean the only one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now."

I take a piece of treacle fudge and nibble on it – past experience from Laura's homemade fudge taught me never to eat it all at once.

"So tell me," Hagrid begins, "Who was he tryin' ter curse?" Hagrid jerks his head at Ron.

"Malfoy called Hermione something – it must've been really bad, because everyone went wild," Harry says.

"It was bad," Ron says hoarsely, face pale and sweaty, before ducking back under as more slugs make an appearance.

"Malfoy called her 'Mudblood'," I fume. Hagrid looks completely outraged.

"He didn'!" he growls, looking at Hermione.

"He did," she replies, "but I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course-"

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," gasps Ron, "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born – you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards, like Malfoy's family, who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood."

Ron pauses and gives a small burp. A single slug falls into his hand, and he drops it in the bucket. "I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference."

"Look at Neville. He's pure-blood," I point out.

"Exactly. And he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up," Ron finishes.

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," Hagrid says proudly. Hermione goes an amazing shade of crimson.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone," Ron says, wiping his forehead with a shaking hand. "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles, we'd've died out."

He retches and ducks out of sight.

"Well, I don' blame yer fer tryin' ter curse him, Ron," Hagrid says loudly over the sound of slugs hitting the bucket, "Bu' maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. 'Spect Lucius Malfoy would've come marchin' up ter school if yeh'd cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble."

I eat more treacle fudge as Hagrid suddenly turns to Harry. "Harry. Got a bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've been givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?"

Hermione and I laugh as Harry wrenches his teeth apart from the fudge and says angrily "I have not been giving out signed photos! If Lockhart's still spreading that around-"

He stops when he hears Hagrid laughing. "I'm only jokin'!" he grins, patting Harry on the back. I laugh even more as Harry goes face first into the table from the force of it. "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin'."

"Bet he didn't like that," Harry says, rubbing his chin.

"Don' think he did," Hagrid grins, "An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided ter go. Treacle fudge, Ron?"

"No thanks... Better not risk it," Ron says weakly.

"Come an' see what I've bin growin'," Hagrid says, leading us out to a vegetable patch behind his hut. In the patch are about a dozen huge pumpkins, larger than I've ever seen. Each one is easily the size of a large boulder.

"Gettin' on well, aren't they?" Hagrid asks us proudly. "Fer the Halloween Feast... should be big enough by then."

"What've you been feeding them?" Harry says incredulously.

Hagrid glances around nervously, before saying shiftily "Well, I've bin givin' them – you know – a bit o' help-"

I look over and see Hagrid's umbrella leaning innocently against the wall. However, I get the feeling that nothing can be judged as completely innocent at Hogwarts.

"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?" Hermione says, looking both amused and disapproving. "Well, you've done a good job on them."

"That's what yer little sister said," Hagrid nods to Ron, "Met her jus' yesterday." Hagrid looks at Harry, beard twitching in a suspicious smile, "Said she was jus' lookin' round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin' she might run inter someone else at my house." He winks at Harry, "If yeh ask me, she wouldn' say no ter a signed-"

"Oh, shut up," Harry says. Ron snorts with laughter, spraying the ground with slugs.

"WATCH IT!" Hagrid roars, pulling Ron away from the pumpkin patch.

It's nearly lunchtime when we decide to go back up to the school. And seeing as we're still in our Quidditch robes and clutching our broomsticks, we are even more eager to get back up. Ron only brings up two more slugs on the way up, and we take this as a sign that the curse is wearing off.

We have only set a single foot in the Entrance Hall when Professor McGonagall's voice rings out across the room. "There you are, Potter – Weasley. You will both do your detentions tonight," she says walking towards us.

"What're we doing, Professor?" Ron asks, and I hear him nervously suppress a burp.

"You will be polishing the silver in the Trophy Room with Mr Filch," Professor McGonagall says to Ron, "And no magic, Weasley – elbow grease."

Ron swallows nervously. Argus Filch hates, and is hated by, all the students in the school.

"And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail," Professor McGonagall says.

"Oh no – Professor, can't I go and do the Trophy Room too?" Harry asks desperately.

"Certainly not. Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o clock sharp, both of you." She walks away briskly.

We walk into the Great Hall. Well, Hermione and I walk, Ron and Harry slouch. They look so depressed that I don't even have the heart to make fun of them. Hermione, however, is wearing an expression that quite clearly reads 'It's your own fault – you broke the rules'.

"Filch'll have me there all night," Ron moans as he starts to eat shepherd's pie. "No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle cleaning."

"I'd swap anytime," Harry says hollowly, "I've had loads of practice with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart's fan mail... he'll be a nightmare...

That evening, Harry and Ron disappear off to their detentions. Hermione and I sit in the Common Room, finishing off our Charms and Potions homework. Even when we're finished, Harry and Ron still haven't got back. I glance at my watch and nearly knock over a bottle in tiredness "Hermione, it's eleven o clock. Let's go to bed – we can see them in the morning."

"I suppose there's no point waiting up for them, is there?" she says, and we gather up our homework and bags and ferry them upstairs, where we change quietly to avoid waking the other girls.

"G'night, Hermione," I mumble. Hearing a faint response, I smile and collapse onto the bed, drawing the hangings around me. As usual, Sooty hoots from my headboard. I stroke his feathers and roll over, falling asleep within seconds.

**Let me know what you think! Next one will be up either later today or early tomorrow, depending on when I get it finished :) Bye for now!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Look at this! Chapter 4!**

* * *

October arrives quickly, bringing with it a wave of illness in the school. The hallways are damp and cold, and the dungeons grow steadily colder.

Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, is kept very busy with the sudden increase in colds among everyone. Her Pepperup potion works instantly, but it leaves the drinker smoking at the ears for a while after. I have to go and take some in the second week of October, and Harry and Ron found it highly amusing.

Ron's sister Ginny is forced into taking some by Percy. The smoke from her ears gives the impression that her whole head is on fire.

And then the rain comes. Huge drops pound on the windows for days. The lake begins to ride, the flower beds become swamps, and the only good thing is that it helps Hagrid's pumpkins, which grow to the size of a garden shed.

Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for Quidditch practice has not been dampened, and as a result we spend hours a day soaking wet and muddy. One particular stormy Saturday brings stormy news. Fred and George tell us of how the Slytherin's Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones make the Slytherin team looks like green blurs.

"Well... we're screwed," I sum up the practice as Harry and I squelch along the corridors.

"Yeah..." Harry says listlessly as we walk.

As we continue along a deserted corridor, we hear muttering. "... don't fulfil their requirements... half an inch, if that..."

"Hello, Nick," Harry says.

"Hi, Nick," I smile at the preoccupied ghost.

"Hello, hello," Nick says, staring morosely out of a window. "You look troubled, young students."

"So do you," I remark.

"Ah, a matter of no importance... It's not as though I really wanted to join... Thought I'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfil requirements'."

IN spite of his relaxed tone, there is a sour look on his face. "But you would think, wouldn't you," he suddenly bursts out, "That getting hit forty five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"

"Oh, yes," Harry says awkwardly.

"Definitely," I agree.

"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However-" Nick breaks off and shakes the letter open, reading furiously "'We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfil our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore."

Nick stuffs the letter away, fuming, "Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh no, it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore!"

Nick takes a few deep breaths and calms down "So, what's bothering you? Anything I can do?"

"No," I say glumly.

"Unless you know where we can get seven free Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones for our match against Sly-"

The rest of Harry's sentence is drowned out by a wailing meow around his ankles. WE look down and find ourselves looking right at the horrid cat, Mrs Norris.

"You'd better get out of here," Nick says hurriedly, "Filch isn't in a good mood – he's got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place –"

"Right," Harry says, and we back away from the cat. However, we aren't fast enough, and as if drawn by a magnet to his cat, Filch appears through a tapestry to Harry's right, wheezing horribly. "Filth!" he shouts, eyes popping as he points to the muddy puddle we made. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, Potter, White!"

WE wave a depressed goodbye to Nick and follow Filch, increasing the amount of mud on the floor.

I've never been in Filch's office before. Generally, students avoid it. It is dingy, with a single lamp hanging from the low ceiling. Many wooden filing cabinets stand around the room, and I bite back a laugh at the fact that Fred and George have an entire draw to themselves. A polished set of manacles and chains hang on the wall behind a desk, and it is common knowledge that Filch is always begging Dumbledore to let him use them.

Filch grabs a quill and pulls a piece of parchment out. "Dung..." he mutters, "great sizzling dragon bogies... frog brains... rat intestines... I've had enough of it... make an example... where's the form... yes..."

He pulls out a parchment form. "Name... Harry Potter. Crime..."

"It was only a bit of mud!" Harry says.

"It's only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it's an extra hour of scrubbing!" Filch shouts.

"Crime... befouling the castle... suggested sentence..." Filch straightens up and glares at Harry. I stand back a little. AS the caretaker leans over to finish writing, a loud crash comes from above, making the room shake. "PEEVES!" Filch roars, flinging the quill down. "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!" he runs out of the office without a backwards glance.

"We should probably wait for him to get back," I mutter, leaning against the wall.

"Yeah," Harry sinks into a moth eaten chair and looking at the desk. I walk over and read Harry's form, considering burning it just for fun. Then, a glossy purple envelope catches my eye. "Hey Harry, look at this..." I pick it up. It reads "Kwikspell: A Correspondence Course in Beginner's Magic."

We open it and pull the parchment out. In curly silver writing, it says "Feel out of step in the world of modern magic? Find yourself making excuses not to perform simple spells? Ever been taunted for your woeful wand work? There is an answer! Kwikspell is an all-new, fail-safe, quick-result, easy-learn course. Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefited from the Kwikspell Method! Madam Z. Nettles of Topsham writes 'I had no memory for incantations and my potions were a family joke! Now, after a Kwikspell course, I am the centre of attention at parties and my friends beg or my Scintillation Solution!' Warlock D.J. Prod of Didsbury says 'My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms, but one month into your fabulous Kwikspell course and I succeeded in turning her into a yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!'"

We flick through the rest of the envelope's contents, intrigued. Why would Filch want a Kwikspell course? Unless...

A few footsteps from behind us tell us that Filch is back. Harry hurriedly slides the envelope back onto the desk as the door opens.

Filch looks triumphant. "That Vanishing Cabinet was extremely valuable!" he says gleefully to Mrs Norris, "We'll have Peeves out this time, my sweet-"

He looks at us suddenly, then his eyes dart to the Kwikspell envelope. We realise too late that it is two feet away from where it started. Filch goes brick red, and we tense for a tidal wave of fury. The caretaker hobbles over to the desk and snatches the envelope, throwing it into a draw. "Have you – did you read-?" he splutters.

"No," we lie quickly.

"If I thought you'd read my private – not that it's mine – for a friend – be that as it may – however-"

WE back away a little – Filch looks terrifying. "Very well – go – and don't breathe a word – not that – however, if you didn't read –go now, I have to write up Peeves's report – go-"

We run out the corridor, not believing our luck. Escaping Filch's office without punishment must be a new school record!

"Harry! Avery! Did it work?" Nick asks eagerly, gliding out of a classroom. From across the corridor, I can see a large black and gold cabinet, completely wrecked and obviously dropped from a great height. "I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch's office. Thought it might distract him."

"Was that you?" I ask in surprise. Nick nods.

"Yeah, it worked, we didn't even get detention. Thanks, Nick!" Harry grins. We set off down the corridor and around the wreckage. I see Harry glance at the rejection letter in Nick's hand. "I wish there was something we could do for you about the Headless Hunt," he says.

Nick stops in his tracks, causing Harry to walk right through him. I stifle a laugh at his reaction. "But there is something you could do for me," Nick says excitedly, "Harry, Avery - would I be asking too much – but no, you wouldn't want –"

"What is it?" says Harry.

"Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth deathday," Nick begins, drawing himself up.

"Oh," Harry says awkwardly. I don't know whether we should be sorry or happy. "Right."

"I'm holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be such an honour if you would attend. Mr Weasley and Miss Granger would be most welcome, too, of course – but I daresay you'd rather go to the school feast?" Nick watches us anxiously.

"No," Harry says quickly, "We'll come- "

"My dear boy! Harry Potter at my deathday party! And –" he hesitates "-do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?"

"Of – of course," Harry says, surprised. Nick beams at us and floats away happily. As soon as he's gone, Harry shrugs at me and we walk up to the Common Room, still wet and muddy.

As we enter the Common Room, I call to Ron and Hermione "We'll get changed and come back." They nod, and we shoot up the stairs to the dormitories to change.

Five minutes later, I am in clean dry clothes with by hair brushed and plaited. Harry and I explain Nick's request to Hermione and Ron. "A Deathday party?" Hermione asks interestedly, "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those – it'll be fascinating!"

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" Ron asks, halfway through Potions homework and extremely grumpy, "Sounds dead depressing to me..."

Rain still pounds against the dark windows. It's a huge contrast to indoors, which is bright and cheery. I sit next to the fire with Harry, Ron and Hermione, finishing off homework so that I wouldn't have to do it last minute. Over in the corner, Fred and George are experimenting with a salamander and a Filibuster firework. Fred had apparently 'rescued' the orange lizard from Care of Magical Creatures, although it looks like it'd rather be there than here.

I glance at Harry, who looks on the verge of telling Hermione and Ron about the Kwikspell course, when at that moment, the salamander flies into the air, emitting sparks and bangs as it shoots around.

Percy storms into the room and starts bellowing at the twins as the salamander disappears into the fire, looking absolutely shattered. It drives all thoughts of the Kwikspell course from my mind, and it must have had the same effect on Harry, as he seems to have forgotten it.

When Halloween arrives, I start to regret promising Nick that we'd attend the party. Everyone else in the whole school is talking about it, the Great Hall is currently being decorated with live bats as usual, Hagrid's pumpkins are huge and carved brilliantly, and there's a new rumour that Dumbledore booked a troupe of dancing skeletons.

"Can't we say we were ill?" I whinge as we start walking down the main staircase.

"A promise is a promise," Hermione reprimands us, "You said you'd go to the deathday party.

I sigh deeply as we walk past the entrance to the Great Hall, breathing the smell of the food as we descend into the dungeons. The passageway to Nick's party is lined with candles. However, they just make the dungeons look even more terrifying than usual. They're long, black and thin – burning blue and casting a ghostly effect over us. Just then, we hear what sounds like thousands of nails being scraped over a blackboard.

"What _is_ that?!" I ask incredulously, screwing up my face.

"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispers. We round a corner and come face to face with Nick, standing in a doorway draped with black velvet drapes.

"My dear friends," he says depressingly, "Welcome, welcome... so pleased you could come..."

He sweeps his plumed feathery hat off and bows us inside.

I am shocked at the sight. The dungeon is filled with a huge number of pearly white ghosts, some on a dance floor, some by a table, some just talking. Above our heads, a huge chandelier holds more black candles. I breath out in admiration and watch my breath condense in the freezing air – it feels like a freezer.

"Shall we have a look around?" Harry suggests.

"Careful not to walk through anyone," Ron says nervously. We walk around slowly, following the edge of the dance floor. We pass multiple different groups of ghosts, like a set of gloomy nuns, a couple of men wearing chains, and the Hogwarts ghosts. The Fat Friar is talking to a knight with an arrow in his forehead. The only ghost not being particularly social is the Bloody Baron, who is being given a huge berth by everyone else.

Suddenly, Hermione stops abruptly, "Oh, no. Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle-"

"Who?" Harry asks as we backtrack.

"She haunts a toilet on the first floor girl's bathroom," I explain.

"She haunts a toilet?" Ron asks questioningly.

"Yes, it's been out of order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to pee in there with her wailing at you-"

"Look, food!" Ron makes an important discovery. I look to where he's pointing. On the other side of the dungeon is a huge table covered in black velvet, supposedly holding food. We sprint eagerly over, but have to stop in our tracks, completely disgusted at the sight. All the food is rotten, burnt, it's generally inedible. They have huge rotten fish, laid out on silver platters, cakes that are burnt long past charcoal stage, a giant haggis covered in maggots which I try and fail not to heave at, a green mouldy cheese, and an enormous grey cake, tombstone shaped, with the words 'Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Died 31st October 1492'.

Suddenly, my arm gets the feeling that it has been plunged into a bucket of icy-cold water. I gasp an spin around, and see a portly ghost approaching the table. He crouches low and opens his mouth, walking forwards so that he passes right through one of smelly salmon.

"Can you taste it if you walk through it?" Harry asks inquisitively. So he's curious, I'm repulsed.

"Almost," the ghost replies sadly, before drifting away. Correction. Harry's curious, I'm repulsed, and the ghost is depressed. We're a good bunch.

"I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavour," says Hermione intelligently, holding her nose and leaning in to examine the haggis.

"Can we move? I feel sick," Ron groans. We start to turn around, but then a little man swoops out from underneath the table.

"Hello Peeves," Harry says in both a bored and cautious manner. Peeves is a bright contrast from the ghosts around us – he's in bright colours, with an orange party hat and a revolving bow tie.

"Nibbles?" says Peeves sweetly, offering a bowl of peanuts, all of which are covered in fungus.

"No thanks," Hermione and I say in unison.

"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle," begins Peeves, eyes glittering, "Rude you was about poor Myrtle." He pauses, then takes a deep breath and bellows "OI! MYRTLE!"

"Oh, no, Peeves, don't tell her what I said, she'll be really upset," whisper Hermione frantically, while I attempt to contain giggles at her panic, "I didn't mean it, I don't mind her – err, hello Myrtle."

A short, squat ghost girl floats over. She looks so depressed behind thick round glasses and lank hair. "What?" she asks us sulkily. "What are you laughing at?" she suddenly turns to me. The accusation sets me off howling with laughter.

"How are you Myrtle?" Hermione asks in a false cheerful voice, "It's nice to see you out of the toilet." This just makes me laugh harder, and before long I am rolling around on the floor.

Myrtle sniffs. "Miss Granger was just talking about you," Peeves says in Myrtle's ear, very slyly.

"Just saying – saying – how nice you look tonight," Hermione grabs my arm and yanks me up, glaring at Peeves all the while.

"You're making fun of me," Myrtle sniffs, small tears welling up in her ghostly eyes.

"No – honestly – didn't I just say how nice Myrtle's looking?" Hermione insists, elbowing Harry and Ron in the ribs and surreptitiously stomping painfully on my foot.

"OW! Oh? Yep," I wince, hopping around.

"Oh, yeah –"

"She did –"

"Don't lie to me!" gasps Myrtle, the tears now running down her cheeks. Peeves laughs behind her, "D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!"

"You've forgotten pimply," hisses Peeves in her ear. With a loud anguished sob, Myrtle flees the dungeon. Peeves shoots after her, throwing peanuts at her and yelling "PIMPLY!"

"Oh, dear," Hermione says sadly. I snigger, and she stomps on my foot again, causing me to yelp in pain.

Nick glides towards us through the crowds. "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Oh, yes," we lie in sync.

"Not a bad turnout," says Nick proudly, "The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent... It's nearly time for my speech, I'd better warn the orchestra..."

However, the orchestra stops at that exact moment. They, along with everyone else here, fall silent, looking around in excitement as a hunting horn sounds.

"Oh, here we go," Nick scowls, a bitter look on his face.

From one of the dungeon walls bursts a dozen ghostly horses, each with a headless horseman. Every ghost assembled in the room claps wildly. WE start to clap too, but upon the look given by Nearly Headless Nick, we stop awkwardly.

The horses gallop into the middle of the dance floor and rear up. At the front of the group, a large ghost holds his bearded head under his arm, which he is using to blow the hunting horn. He jumps down from the horse, lifting his head high in the air so that he could see everyone. We all laugh at this. He strides over to Nick, putting his head back on his neck.

"Nick!" he roars, "How are you? Head still hanging in there?"

He laughs at his own joke and thumps Nick on the shoulder.

"Welcome, Patrick," Nick responds stiffly.

"Live 'uns!" Patrick shouts suddenly, spotting us four and giving a huge fake jump of astonishment. His head falls off again, and the crowd laughs with him.

"Very amusing," Nick growls.

"Don't mind Nick," Sir Patrick's head yells, "Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say – look at the fellow –"

"I think – err – we think," Harry nudges me and gives a meaningful look at Nick, "Nick's very – frightening and – err"

"Ha! Bet he asked you to say that!" Patrick roars.

"If I could have everyone's attention, it's time for my speech," Nick says loudly, striding over to the podium and stepping into a spotlight.

"My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen. It is my great sorrow..."

Nobody is watching. Sir Patrick and the rest of the Hunt start a game of Head Hockey on the floor, and everyone is paying attention to that. Nick attempts to recapture the attention of his audience in vain, and eventually gives up as Sir Patrick's head goes soaring past him.

I shiver, hugging myself and regretting my decision to only wear a thin shirt, thinking it would be boiling like a normal party. "I can't stand much more of this," Ron mutters, teeth chattering.

"Let's go," Harry nods toward the door. We back out and practically sprint out and down the corridor. "Pudding might not be finished yet!" Ron smiles hopefully, leading the way to the entrance hall.

All of a sudden, Harry stops dead. He clutches the stone wall and presses his ear against it and looking up and down the corridor.

"That's it. Harry is officially insane," I sigh.

"Harry, what're you-"

"It's that voice again – shut up a minute –"

I think back to the time when Harry told us about the voice he heard in Lockhart's office and shudder, listening out for anything.

"Listen!" Harry says urgently. We all freeze.

Taking us by surprise, he shouts "This way!" and begins to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, to the first floor. We clatter along behind him. "Harry, what're we-" I begin.

"SHH!" he cuts me off.

I listen again, still not hearing anything.

"It's going to kill someone!"

He sprints off up the next flight of stairs and off along the second floor. I am the first to follow, completely bewildered. He doesn't stop until we come to a deserted corridor.

"Harry, what was all that about?" Ron gasps, wiping sweat off his forehead "I couldn't hear anything..."

Suddenly, Hermione gives a huge gasp, pointing down the corridor. "Look!"

Something on the wall ahead is shining. We slowly approach, straining to see in the darkness. On the wall between two windows, foot-high words have been messily painted, illuminated by torches.** THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE**.

"What's that thing – hanging underneath?" Ron asks, voice quivering slightly. We inch nearer, and as we do, I notice my feet making a splashing noise. Looking down, I realise that we're standing in a giant puddle. I look back up and keep my eyes focused on the hanging shadow.

We all realise what it is at the same time. With a huge leap back, I stutter out "Mrs Norris!"

Filch's cat is hanging by her tail from a torch bracket. She is stiff as a board, with wide staring eyes. A cold rush spreads over my body, and for a few seconds, we just stand there.

"Let's get out of here," Ron says.

"Shouldn't we try and help-" says Harry awkwardly.

"Trust me, we don't want to be found here," Ron mumbles. However, it is too late, and a thunder-like rumble tells us that the feast has ended and the rest of the school is approaching. Then, students enter the corridor from both ends.

All chatter and noise dies down instantly as everyone notices the hanging cat. We stand alone in the centre of the corridor as silence spreads through the school. My insides shrivel as I realise how guilty we must look.

Then, someone shouts through the crowd. I recognise the voice instantly. "Enemies of the Heir beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

Draco Malfoy pushes through the crowd, with a flushed face and an evil grin at the sight of the cat.

**Let me know what you think!**


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